I believe it is Murphy’s Law that is a British cultural axiom identifying the probability that if
something can go wrong, it almost certainly will. And it has struck again.
We have recently experienced some minor damp problems in an outhouse and I traced the source to an area behind the water butts. I said, jokingly, to my wife as I emptied them
“This’ll precipitate a drought.”
This is when Murphy stepped in to oblige. The last drip of precious rain-water from the
second butt hadn’t reached the drain when the sun came out. We have not had a single
drop of water since then. Now, if that isn’t Murphy’s Law at work – what is?
Anyway, I moved the empty butts and treated the cause of the damp before putting them back. And there they sit, bone dry.
The trouble is that we have a lot of azalea and rhododendron plants in containers and they, of course, prefer soft rainwater to the treated stuff from the tap. They will simply have to get used to it until it rains again and fills the butts.
The greenhouse and outside staging are now full of flowers and vegetables at various stages of growth from seedlings to those waiting to be planted out when the danger of frost has passed – probably mid-August if Murphy has anything to do with it. So, to cope, the alarm is set 40 minutes earlier so I can get on with the watering in advance of the normal pre-office work schedule.
I had forgotten just how deep my hatred of hose pipes runs through my veins. If they can
twist, form an impenetrable nest and manage to identify my most precious plant or
favourite pot – and knock it to the ground where it ends in pieces – the wretched thing will.
At least I have sorted out the perennial problem of the spray head flying off the hose and
soaking yours truly with an amazing piece of kit called a Qwickhose attachment. But my
loathed morning use of the hose has to continue as the mercury in the thermometer is up
and down like a yo yo. The good thing is that my old greenhouse – circa mid 1950s – leaks like a sieve and automatically waters most of the plants for me in a good rain storm, so the hose pipe can be left to distort itself in yet even more unfathomable knots.
I say, roll on the rain but then, of course, Murphy will ensure that it doesn’t stop for weeks.
Hey ho.
Happy Gardening!
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